bookie

21st December: Day 69 of doing one thing as if I was living that day as my last.

I made it!  Finally crashed at 2 am.  Woke up to even more slush and snow… way too early!

And spending an hour gasping at prices in Fairway (has it only been a year and a half absence for the prices to jump so?), I headed to one of my favourite places: the great American bookstore.

I love it, love it, love it.  Nowhere else do you have such an array of titles, comfy velvet chairs everywhere, a cafe, free bathrooms, water fountains…. actually, I’m starting to think I’d move in here, rather than the MET, if I were working through the mixed-up files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler.

Right. Not to lose focus. What an afternoon it was perusing the books I haven’t been able to get my grubby paws on in Waterstones. I took a stack to the author area and munched on digestive biscuits (they actually have no calories because they make your body digest as they move through) as I skimmed an entire book and paged through others.

Books now on my radar (not just from this store):
Garlic and Sapphires by Ruth Reichl – Nearing the end and love hearing the behind the scenes life of the former NY Times food critic

East of Eden by John Steinbeck – about to start

Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin – to start soon – about a man’s mission to promote peace through schools

Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson – started on the plane – hard not to read this funny American’s silly observations on the UK and see that I’m starting to understand a lot of them!

Deceptively Delicious by Julia Seinfeld – making food substitutions for kids (or me)

American Test Kitchen Cookbook - that my former NY colleague J used to always swear by

Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott – purchased! a guide to the creative part of writing

Ella Minnow Pea - not sure if I’m really sold on this, but the eager Borders employee insisted he sells copy upon copy of this book after he detailed how he just finished writing a memoir about his year in Florida working in the adult entertainment industry at the same time as a camp for mentally retarded children. I’m thinking people may have bought the book to get him to stop talking. I took the book and then dumped it in a fiction aisle. I’m so mean. But I might consider it.

Reading Like A Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and Those Who Want to Write by Francine Prose – Clearly she had to be a writer with a last name like that

Why Men Cheat – I skimmed this book in Borders and while it makes good points that men don’t usually cheat with women hotter than their spouses and really are looking for appreciation and respect, it also felt like the woman had to bend over backwards for the man not to stray… depressing for women and quite negative towards men, non?

Lots more, but I’m going to wrap this up now…

oh, and p.s.: I hope you didn’t believe me about the digestive biscuits.

sundaaaaaaay

23nd November: Day 42 of doing one thing as if I was living that day as my last.

On Saturday I had just finished eating my humus, avocado and spinach medley in the Natural History Museum when I thought, “I’d really just love to sit here on this bench and read, rather than wedge myself between the crowds that are constantly smacking into my messenger bag, to see the wildlife photos.” I had made the mental shift to London tourist. I was longing for a reading break.

Reading breaks had become a part of my tourist routine when I was in Venice for Carnival with J in 2003. Chilled to the bone and slightly masked-out, we drank large bowls of hot chocolate in cafes across the city as we put on our best suspense voices and read Alex Kellerman aloud to each other. Ever since, I’ve interspersed tourist activities with chapters, pacing myself through my days of pounding the cobbled pavement.

Only recently have I realised that I only really read when I’m on vacation. And that I miss it. So on Sunday, after being woken up at 6 am by the my flatmate’s _____ (fill in the blank with the answer to this analogy – hamster: rodent :: cat : _____) body slamming itself into the door of her empty room, I decided to have a lazy, slow day. I watched the snow fall outside my window seat. I skipped church. I took a nap. I joined the library. Explored the tiny, wet alleys that lead to the Richmond Green. Went to Waterstones. Bought a book that I’ve been keen to find. And then spent the evening drinking a big bowl of hot chocolate, reading my new book. It was would have been unbelievable to have J there, reading aloud to me, but still, it was really, really lovely. And I’m not even on holiday.

eat pray love… do nothing

My friend E’s recent care package included a book that has been getting me stopped everywhere I go (the customs official, the billing department at the doctor) for my thoughts and verdict. So far Elizabeth Gilbert and I are eating our way through Italy – luckily she’s the only one buying bigger pants.

One passage that particularly grabbed me as I was taking the LIRR in from JFK to begin my extended work break reads:

“Generally speaking, though, Americans have an inability to relax into sheer pleasure. Ours is an entertainment-seeking nation, but not necessarily a pleasure-seeking one. Americans spend billions to keep themselves amused with everything from porn to theme parks to wars, but that’s not exactly the same thing as quiet enjoyment. Americans work harder and longer and more stressful hours than anyone in the world today. But as Luca Spaghetti pointed out, we seem to like it. Alarming statistics back this observation up, showing that many Americans feel more happy and fulfilled in their offices than they do in their homes. Of course, we all inevitably work too hard, then we get burned out and have to spend the whole weekend in our pajamas, eating cereal straight out of the box and staring at the TV in a mild coma (which is the opposite of working, yes, but not exactly the same thing as pleasure). Americans don’t really know to how to do nothing. This is the cause of that great sad American stereotype – the overstressed executive who goes on vacation, but who cannot relax.”

Crazy enough, I have all of this time off and I have been so stressed out about doing all of the things I never get to do – essentially making my break productive. Luckily, I have some sane friends who regularly tell me how crazy I am… so with this goal in mind, some photos of nothing in Central Park from yesterday…

Today’s eating, praying, loving and doing nothing revolve around turkey and the fam.